


Movie Nights

by tobiyos



Series: Kinktober 2020 [4]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Hand Jobs, Impact Play, Kinktober 2020, Multi, Poor BDSM Practices, Spanking, kind of a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:42:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26706916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobiyos/pseuds/tobiyos
Summary: "Nobody can like getting smacked around like that for real.”There’s a moment of silence as Ryuji checks his messages, before Akira says quietly, “It’s not that bad.” When Ryuji glances at him, Akira’s face is flushing slightly, but he just shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Getting hit like that. It’s kind of hot.”
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji
Series: Kinktober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970752
Comments: 14
Kudos: 112





	Movie Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Day four of kinktober! That's 13% of the way! (I'm so tired of editing. Please send help. I don't know if this would be easier or harder with a beta)
> 
> Anyway, Day four: impact play!

They do movie nights on Wednesday.

Not every Wednesday, mind you, though that’s mostly because Ryuji is as bad at managing his time as Akira is, and if they’re not scrambling to finish some project in the middle of the week, it’s an honest to god miracle. Though, sometimes Akechi lets himself get so exhausted at work that he just wants to lay on his couch and watch Akira and Ryuji play video games and eat shitty junk food, and it’s like high school again, minus the murder attempts and the metaverse.

But sometimes the universe works out just right, and Wednesday rolls around, and Ryuji spreads himself across Akechi’s _unfairly_ soft couch to thumb through his phone while Akira and Akechi argue over what movie they’re going to watch.

“Spare me your artsy bullshit,” Akechi is scoffing, and Ryuji glances up to see that Akira is trying to select some foreign film. Ryuji winces. Subtitles are _not_ his thing.

“Oh, and _horror_ is any better?” Akira says, and leaning over the couch towards Ryuji, though he’s still looking back at Akechi.

“ _Yes_!” Akechi says, and Ryuji can hear them grappling for the remote.

“Guys,” Ryuji sighs, and leans up to look over the back of the couch. Ren is stretching his impossibly long arm above his head, right above where Akechi can’t reach, holding the remote. They look like a couple of idiot kids. “Why don’t we just pick a movie at random?”

Akechi is glaring up at the remote, and Ryuji thinks if he had a shred less of his dignity, he’d be up on his toes, hopping for it. “Yes, _Akira_ , how about we just be civil and choose a movie at random?”

“What a good idea, _Goro_. Allow me to choose a movie _at random_.”

Ryuji sighs and sets his phone down on Akechi’s coffee table. “Hand me the remote,” he says, and Akira and Akechi are turning to look at him. “Remote,” he says again, and Akira begrudgingly hands it over.

Akechi lets out an indignant _hmph_! before he joins Ryuji on the couch, curling into his side like a cat. One of the more surprising things he’s learned about being friends with Akechi is how physical he is, constantly curling into Ryuji’s side or napping with his head in Akira’s lap. He wraps an arm around Akechi’s shoulder without thinking much of it, because he’s just as touchy as Akechi is.

Akira grumbles quietly as he sits on Ryuji’s other side, though Ryuji would much rather handle Akira’s lone grumpiness than an hour or two of him and Akechi bickering. He loves them both, he really does, but his friends are nightmares.

Ryuji counts down seven rows and goes over three for an even ten on Akechi’s screen, and selects whatever movie was in the spot. They don’t even check the synopsis before the opening music is playing quietly, and Akira throws his feet over Ryuji’s lap with another small huff. For a few blissful minutes, everything is quiet as the woman on screen prepares for her wedding busily.

“Wait,” Akechi says, when another identical looking woman comes on screen. “Is… are they sisters? Which one is the main character?”

“Maybe it’s both of them?” Ryuji suggests.

Akira tilts his head in Ryuji’s periphery. “There was only one woman on the title photo…”

The movie keeps going, running through a short wedding scene that Ryuji thinks is kind of sweet, until suddenly it jumps to the couple suddenly engaged in intense, graphic sex, and Ryuji jumps to cover his eyes like a little kid. “Gross!”

“Is that the sister?” Akechi asks, and Akira makes a considering noise.

“I don’t think so, I mean why—”

There’s a scream from the TV. Turns out it was the sister.

This is the beginning of Akira and Akechi’s arguing over whether each scene contains the sister or the main character, and Ryuji flinching through the gratuitous amounts of way too rough sex.

“This is ridiculous!” Akechi says, sitting up. Ryuji’s shoulder goes cold without him there, but he watches Akechi gesturing angrily at the screen despite the chill. “So, they’re twins. He’s _married_ one of them. He should be able to tell which one is his wife before he sleeps with her!”

Akira leans across the couch towards Akechi. “The sister is _trying_ to make it seem like she’s the wife. Of course, he’s not going to be able to tell!”

Ryuji jumps as a smack sounds on screen, and he’s just in time to catch one of the women get smacked across her naked ass. He winces. “Especially considering the sister consistently asks for it rough like that.”

“Exactly!” Akechi says, and he’s sinking back down towards Ryuji’s shoulder.

“Ugh,” Akira says. He leans back into the couch, but Ryuji can feel the tension in his legs. He smoothes a hand over Akira’s leg until they relax back onto his thighs.

“Maybe we should watch something else?” He suggests.

“ _No!_ ” Akechi and Akira snap.

Ryuji sits through the rest of the movie, not particularly invested in the sister’s scheme of trying to sleep with her brother-in-law, until they get to the climax, and the husband reveals that he’s known it was the sister all along.

“I told you!” Akechi shouts, pointing at the screen. “There’s no way he wouldn’t have been able to tell that wasn’t his wife! They’re two different people.”

“Whatever,” Akira is snapping, and the wife is slapping her husband across the face. Ryuji barely hears the sound of the sister claiming she’s pregnant over their bickering.

“Oh, come on,” Ryuji groans. He’s not surprised when things take a sharp turn for the worse towards the end of the movie, the sister giving birth to her brother-in-law’s child and the wife killing her and the husband in a bout of jealous rage. They even manage to work in one last uncomfortable sex scene. Ryuji watches the credits roll with a gratitude he didn’t know he was even possible of.

“That was ridiculous,” Akechi sighs, reaching for the remote.

“You should have let _me_ pick,” Akira sing songs, and Akechi throws a pillow at his head.

“Ugh,” Ryuji says, and leans forward to grab his phone. “I’d have rather dealt with Akira’s subtitles. Why was that like… ninety percent sex?”

He catches Akira’s shrug out of the corner of his eyes. “Could have been worse.” Akechi is making an agreeing noise.

“Yeah, but like, it was so _violent_. Nobody can like getting smacked around like that for real.”

There’s a moment of silence as Ryuji checks his messages, before Akira says quietly, “It’s not that bad.”

Ryuji’s brain abruptly comes to a screeching halt. “Dude, what?”

When Ryuji glances at him, Akira’s face is flushing slightly, but he just shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Getting hit like that. It’s kind of hot.”

Ryuji knows he’s gaping, but his brain is flicking through images of Akira in various positions from the movie, getting the shit slapped out of him and _loving_ it and oh. _Oh._

“Well,” Akechi is saying for him, and Ryuji can hear the tone in his voice is slightly teasing. “Akira, you never fail to surprise me.”

Ryuji makes a strange, choked off noise. “I don’t know, man. Like I just don’t know how you could hurt someone like that.”

Akira shifts in his seat a bit, leans forward and rests his hands on his knees. “Okay, hit me.”

Ryuji feels his mouth hanging open. “Dude—”

“Come on,” Akira says, that familiar sly smile creeping back onto his face. “Scared?”

“No way,” Ryuji laughs, but he sounds more confident than he feels.

“Then hit me.”

Akechi, always the shit talker, is very inconveniently quiet for once in his life, which Ryuji loathes him for. This situation feels very quickly like it’s spiraling out of his control, and Akira is just batting long, dark eyelashes at him, leaning forward into Ryuji’s space and taking all of the wind out of his lungs.

So, naturally, Ryuji hits him.

Not hard, just a little tap to the side of Akira’s face, but Akira turns his head and _moans_ , so loud Ryuji’s worried Akechi’s going to have to deal with his pissed neighbors. He’s playing it up, Ryuji knows, but he can’t help the unwanted shock of arousal that shoots through him. Hm.

“See,” Akira pants, quiet over the sound of blood rushing past Ryuji’s ear and the constant stream of thoughts that sound like _holy shit, holy shit_ and _Akira, Akira, Akira_ and the most important one, _Do not get a boner right now, Ryuji Sakamoto._ “It’s not that bad when they’re into it.”

“Right,” Ryuji says, but it sounds kind of hollow. “Holy shit.”

Akira is laughing now the way he does when he feels like he’s made a situation too intense. “Sorry, it was too much, I know—”

“Now hold on,” Akechi interrupts, and Ryuji feels Akechi’s chin hook over his shoulder, his hands resting gently on Ryuji’s side for purchase. The touch is a little electric with the way his heart already pounding, and fuck, _fuck_ , does Akira really sound like that in bed? “Now it’s not particularly fair that Ryuji gets to know what the fuss is about all on his own.”

Akira’s laughter goes bright and airy, the sweet curve of his smile going sharp in an instant. “Well, if you insist,” he purrs, sliding slowly off the couch and onto the floor, hands spreading against the ground when he settles on his knees between Akechi and Ryuji.

Ryuji doesn’t really know what’s happening at this point, because the fog in his brain is so thick he’s surprised it’s not coming out of his ears. Akira plucks his glasses off and rests them on the table behind him. There’s a quick toss of his head to move his bangs out of his face, and Ryuji is getting the strangely familiar feeling in his chest he’s been getting lately around Akira, where he wants to reach out and _touch_.

“Do your worst,” Akira is saying with a smile, Goro leaning forward to hold Akira delicately by the jaw. Akechi hums, a flighty little bright noise, before his hand impacts Akira’s face with a loud slap. Ryuji jumps, but keeps his eyes on Akira, cataloging that he doesn’t respond, save for a small gasp that makes Ryuji shiver. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Akira’s face, doesn’t think he _can_ , not with the way Akira drags his lip between his teeth and his eyes go heavy lidded. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

“I think it’s the best you can handle,” Akechi says pleasantly. Ryuji’s heartrate is picking up near painfully in his chest, and he wants to say something, he thinks, but doesn’t know what. Akira shivers though, and his lip pops back out from between his teeth, bright red now. “What do you think, Ryuji?” Goro asks him.

Ryuji _thinks_ he feels very out of his depth, and he also thinks that too much more of this might actually kill him. “I think you can do better than that,” he says anyway, because Akira’s mouth is already a pretty, plump red, and he wants to see what he looks like when he gets _really_ into it, when he can’t do much more than gasp.

“Such a shame,” Akechi says, tilting Akira’s face from side to side like he’s mapping him out for a sculpture. “Such a pretty face for you to use as a target.”

Akira opens his mouth to say something back and is cut off just as quickly by another sharp slap from Akechi. This time, Ryuji thinks, the gasp is genuine, followed by a pleased little echale. Ryuji watches him shiver again, and the cheek Akechi has hit twice is starting to go a blotchy red that looks gorgeous against the stark black of Akira’s hair and his ivory skin.

“You were saying?” Akechi asks him, without moving the hand holding Akira’s jaw.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Akira gasps, and wets his lips with his tongue. “Was gonna say it’s not just my face.”

Ryuji’s quiet groan is echoed by Akechi’s.

“Dude,” Ryuji says, when his eyes jump down almost reflexively. “Do you have a boner right now?”

“Oh, definitely,” Akira groans, and then makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat when Akechi’s grip on him goes tighter.

“Come up here,” Akechi says in a voice laced so intently with authority that Ryuji wonders if he has practice ordering pretty boys off of their knees.

Akira scrambles up onto the couch, and into Akechi’s lap, the long lines of his thigh pressed warm against Ryuji’s legs. His body is shaking where he’s holding himself up over Akechi, and Ryuji reaches out and presses a hand onto Akira’s calf without thinking. It earns him a glance from Akira, his pupils blown wide and mouth parted slightly. Ryuji swallows.

“How often do you do this?” Akechi asks, pulling Akira’s attention back neatly. Ryuji wants to know what the _this_ he’s referring to is, and if he’s invited, because he feels like he’s not supposed to be here.

Akira looks slightly confused for a moment, before he takes a shuddering breath. “Not often. Freaks people out.”

“How often do you want to?”

A smile stretches across Akira’s face. “All the time.”

Ryuji thinks that whoever the _fuck_ Akira has been sleeping with is absolutely out of their mind, because Akira looks trashed already, and all he’s done is get manhandled a little bit. If they’re missing out on _this_ because they’re a little freaked out, they can go fuck themselves.

“Ryuji,” Akechi says, and Ryuji starts. “Move back.” Ryuji slides across the sofa, turning so he can still see, with his back propped up against the arm of the sofa, a hand thrown cautiously across the back.

“Move,” Akechi says, and swats Akira on the thigh. He seems to understand, shifting off of Akechi to lean towards Ryuji, his body held up by the way he keeps his arms propped up on the arm of the couch. Ryuji swallows again because Akira is _so_ close, and it would be so very easy to just lean up and slot their mouths together, but he doesn’t know if whatever they’re doing warrants kissing, even as Akira’s eyes flick hazily down towards Ryuji’s mouth.

“On your knees,” Akechi is saying, and the little noise Akira makes in response ghosts his breath across Ryuji’s mouth. There’s more shifting as Akira raises his body up more, and over his head, Ryuji can see Akechi rest a hand gently on Akira’s hip. “Good boy,” Akechi purrs, and Akira arches up into the touch like he’s drawn to it.

Hesitantly, Ryuji reaches out and just holds Akira by the side of his face. He wants to kiss him again, but more importantly he wants to see his expressions, bright and open. Akira is chewing on his bottom lip again, and his eyelashes are impossibly long, too dark against the light color of his eyes, and Ryuji is almost too distracted to notice the way he reacts when Akechi hits him for the first time.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Akira gasps, and in return there’s a hand on Ryuji’s chin, tilting his face up. “Keep looking at me.” He says, and Ryuji almost laughs.

“How could I do anything else?”

Akechi hits him again, and the sound is different than it was before, slightly muted by the material of the pants Akira is wearing, but Akira responds the same way, making a broken noise and flinching away from it. He huffs out a laugh. “I could cut glass with my dick right now,” he chuckles, and Ryuji feels a smile winding back onto his face. Everything with Akira is always so _easy_ , even when he’s holding his best friend as he gets slapped across the ass.

“Do you want me to stop?” Akechi asks, and a little bit of fear sinks into Ryuji’s heart because _god_ if he says no they’ll have to leave whatever _this_ is behind, and Ryuji would rather sit through that godawful movie six more times if it meant keeping _this_.

“No,” Akira pants, and gets another half-muted slap in response.

“Take your pants off,” Akechi says, and Akira’s dropping his face into Ryuji’s neck so he can reach back and undo his pants with one hand. Ryuji just sits there and tries to catch his breath during a moment of reprieve, but as soon as Akira isn’t blocking out his view of Akechi, he’s getting an eyeful of Akechi’s flushed face, the way too intense gaze he sends Ryuji’s way. And okay, yeah, maybe Ryuji has always thought Akira was gorgeous in a hot kind of way, all messy curls and dark clothes, but Akechi is _pretty_ , and his lips are full, and Ryuji kind of wishes he could be in like three places at once right now.

Ryuji groans when Akira stars to suck at his neck, hard enough Ryuji knows it’ll bruise, and he’s fairly surprised to find he doesn’t much care.

“ _Akira_ ,” Akechi sing songs, and there’s a much more solid _crack_ when he swats his hand over Akira’s ass. Akira whines into Ryuji’s shoulder, and Ryuji feels his teeth dig in a little harder. “Back on your hands now.”

Akira manages to prop himself back up on his hands, but he looks ravished to hell and back, eyes glazy and mouth red, and this time Ryuji lets his brain take a backseat when he arches up to kiss him. Akira’s mouth is warm and slick, and when Akechi hits him again his moan vibrates into Ryuji’s mouth, and Ryuji shivers so hard he knocks their noses together.

“P-please,” Akira says when Ryuji pulls back, glancing over his shoulder at Akechi.

“Please what?” Akechi asks, with another solid _smack._

“I-I don’t know, nn, I can’t—” he’s cut off when Akechi smacks him again. “Oh fuck,” he gasps, and his eyes are dropping down to Ryuji’s. “Lemme touch you.” Ryuji is nodding before Akira can really say anything, because _yes_ , anything, anything ever.

Akira fumbles with his pants before he slides a hand around Ryuji’s cock, and Ryuji makes a noise like he’s been punched, a too hard exhale through his mouth. Akira’s hand on his dick is too dry, even with the precum beading over the head of his cock, and Ren spits into his hand before he’s diving back down, and his mouth is pressing into Ryuji’s again.

It’s as uncoordinated as Ryuji would have expected, and over the sounds Akira is making into his mouth, he can hear the sound of Akechi’s slaps to his ass growing faster, Akechi murmuring something to Akira that makes his hand on Ryuji’s cock stutter, and then he’s moving faster, pushing ahead like he’s trying to chase Ryuji’s orgasm before anything else.

It’s not difficult, considering Ryuji feels like he’s within an inch of his life, and his heel digs into the floor when Akira bites his lip. Akira’s eyes are welling up with tears when he pulls away for a breath, the bottom of his eyelashes beading together prettily.

“Hit me,” Akira breathes, and Ryuji stutters out _fuck_ , before reaching up and around to smack Akira high on his thigh. His skin is impossibly warm, like he’s been sitting against an oven, and it makes the heat in Ryuji’s stomach squeeze tighter and tighter, until he comes into Akira’s knuckles with a throaty groan.

Akira whines, loud and high, and Ryuji can see he’s on the edge of his own orgasm, the tears in his eyes rolling onto his cheeks and the sounds of Akechi’s spanking him getting louder, until he’s whining, “C-coming!” and his body tenses up and shakes out so hard, Ryuji wonders if the image might actually follow him to his grave. His whole-body curls in on himself as he shakes, and shakes, and Ryuji pets comfortingly over his back, happily listening to the broken way Akira is panting, even after he seems to have worked his orgasm through. Akira kisses him as he comes down, a soft, slow moving thing that turns all the locks in Ryuji’s chest and makes him want to hide this part of Akira inside of him.

“Shit,” Akechi breathes, and Akira makes a happy sound into Ryuji’s mouth. The slick little noise that Akira’s mouth makes when he pulls away gets Ryuji’s dick valiantly interested again. Akechi meets his eye over Akira’s head. “I didn’t even touch him.”

Ryuji blinks twice, confused, because Akechi was _definitely_ touching him, but then he realizes, and _oh. Oh wow._ Ryuji glances sideways at Akira’s blissed out face as he sits back on the couch, and then winces. “Did you come untouched from that?”

Akira looks slightly embarrassed, reaching up to tug on his fringe. “Ah, I guess.”

“Oh my god.” Ryuji buries his face in his hands. “ _Oh my god!_ ”

“Sorry,” Akechi says, and Ryuji looks up just in time to see him smoothing a hand down Akira’s back. “I think I went a little overboard.”

Akira is laughing, and wiggling back into his pants, though the flush on his face stays high on his cheeks. “I didn’t know overboard felt like that.”

Akechi laughs, and Akira says something about buying dinner, and Ryuji wonders if that’s the end of it there, if that’s all of the Akira he gets for a fix.

When Akira slides into his lap the Wednesday after that, and Akechi’s hand squeezes gently around his waist, well, Ryuji certainly doesn’t complain.

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda love Goro, Akira, and Ryuji's dynamic, but idk if I'll write for them again. I don't have any ideas, at least but I'll see I guess! Thanks for reading :)
> 
> As always, for updates and rambling, my [ reg ](https://twitter.com/tobi_yos) and [ NSFW Twitter](https://twitter.com/h0ney_bunns) (though the nsfw one is new and im uhhh not quite sure what I'm doing.) Come say hi please! I always wanna talk to more people :]


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